rain_and_snow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rain_and_snow) wrote2009-09-01 01:11 am
rain_and_snow) wrote2009-09-01 01:11 am
(no subject)
This evening we cleared out the kitchen and living room, bought a medicine cabinet (tool box, red style), and I bought a waffle iron. Yay!
On Saturday I had an excellent time at ScienceWorks. The Star Wars exhibition was great, and $4 to go to sleep for nearly an hour seemed particularly inexpensive. The party afterward was worth the effort. I enjoyed myself. Ringwood! Huzzah.
It really frustrates me that some people think it is reasonable to tell other people what to wear, or what not to wear, beyond running around with no clothes on. And even that hits a nerve. Religious wear and symbols is my main gripe here. Turban? Crucifix? Hijab? Who frickin cares! Does their clothing choice hurt you? No. Get over it.
There are insufficient words to convey my hate of drafting, and cutting fabric. I would gladly pay someone else to do it, if I could just trust someone other than myself to do it properly! I'm thinking I'll make a 23" mesh underbust to start with. I just hate the number 23, and so would rather 22, or 24, but I'm sure I really need the 23. Grumpy. I'll be able to use it this summer, and then as a sleeping corset. I want to be lacing 22" by, say, winter next year. Pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will always see [me] through.
So, so over being depressed. Particularly bad the past three weeks. I hope this week I have off will give me the break that I need. Hope. That said, the anxiety is not bad at all. I am, however, coming to realise that I may not actually rid myself of this filter on the world. It was approximately the beginning of year nine that I decided emotions were inefficient, ineffective, and just generally not worth it. This was partly, and perhaps mostly, because of the way I felt about a person. The way I felt seemed irrational. So I decided it was, and extended it to the rest of my life, I think. I remember writing about it. I also recall writing about looking for something - and not knowing what the something was. And about burying emotions. Not in that order. Later I wrote about having a wall, or masks, and that they were cracking up. Year ten sometime, I think. Year ten also being the year of dancing, and the dinner dance, and failing to be perfect. Some time after that I stopped trying altogether, and although it didn't make things any better, it probably used up a bit less energy. Useful by that point as I was getting <4 hours sleep on average a night. And little else to get me through the day. I guess I kinda had emotions then - too tired to repress them or thir expression, it was a coin flip as to being numb and blank, or sad and blank. I don't recall when the anxiety kicked in. Possibly year eleven, but I think it was year twelve, really. Possibly another side effect of one of the medications. Possibly meclobemide. After that was sertraline, I think, then venelafaxine (Effexor, do not use!), then mirtrazapine, then for anxiety buspirone, and now imipramine. Practically debilitating in year thirteen. Buspirone was bad generally, and just made me somewhat anxious all the time. Begining of this year saw the switch to imipramine, which I would consider a god send. Less specifically suicidal, likely the result of moving away from my family. Possibly imipramine played a role. Now I just fail badly at understanding emotions, emotional expression, and expressing my own emotions. And recognising that I am even experiencing an emotion. >.> Shedding tears is my catch-all emotional expression. Confused, happy, sad. I don't do it for annoyed, though. And that about covers the range of emotions I can sometimes recognise in myself and others.
So now I'm doing stuff I promised I'd never do. I am enjoying it, too. And I don't know if it will be worth it in the end, but it's worth it now. To me, that counts as reason enough, even though reason has nothing to do with it. Reason, and I'd probably be in a different place. Reason, and I'd have said something different to what I said before. Reason and I wouldn't have the conversations I'm having with someone else. Sure, there was reason, it's just different reason to what I've ever used before. "I feel like it." And not just conversations. Just the way of being. And it's excellent, at least for now.
"Beauty always comes with dark thoughts.
I wish I had an angel
For one moment of love
I wish I had your angel
Your Virgin Mary undone
I'm in love with my lust
Burning angel wings to dust
I wish I had your angel tonight"
I am so, so confused as to how I ended up where I am. Breaking so many of my own rules. I made them for my benefit! I think I'm more confused that I'm sure happier this way.
On Saturday I had an excellent time at ScienceWorks. The Star Wars exhibition was great, and $4 to go to sleep for nearly an hour seemed particularly inexpensive. The party afterward was worth the effort. I enjoyed myself. Ringwood! Huzzah.
It really frustrates me that some people think it is reasonable to tell other people what to wear, or what not to wear, beyond running around with no clothes on. And even that hits a nerve. Religious wear and symbols is my main gripe here. Turban? Crucifix? Hijab? Who frickin cares! Does their clothing choice hurt you? No. Get over it.
There are insufficient words to convey my hate of drafting, and cutting fabric. I would gladly pay someone else to do it, if I could just trust someone other than myself to do it properly! I'm thinking I'll make a 23" mesh underbust to start with. I just hate the number 23, and so would rather 22, or 24, but I'm sure I really need the 23. Grumpy. I'll be able to use it this summer, and then as a sleeping corset. I want to be lacing 22" by, say, winter next year. Pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will always see [me] through.
So, so over being depressed. Particularly bad the past three weeks. I hope this week I have off will give me the break that I need. Hope. That said, the anxiety is not bad at all. I am, however, coming to realise that I may not actually rid myself of this filter on the world. It was approximately the beginning of year nine that I decided emotions were inefficient, ineffective, and just generally not worth it. This was partly, and perhaps mostly, because of the way I felt about a person. The way I felt seemed irrational. So I decided it was, and extended it to the rest of my life, I think. I remember writing about it. I also recall writing about looking for something - and not knowing what the something was. And about burying emotions. Not in that order. Later I wrote about having a wall, or masks, and that they were cracking up. Year ten sometime, I think. Year ten also being the year of dancing, and the dinner dance, and failing to be perfect. Some time after that I stopped trying altogether, and although it didn't make things any better, it probably used up a bit less energy. Useful by that point as I was getting <4 hours sleep on average a night. And little else to get me through the day. I guess I kinda had emotions then - too tired to repress them or thir expression, it was a coin flip as to being numb and blank, or sad and blank. I don't recall when the anxiety kicked in. Possibly year eleven, but I think it was year twelve, really. Possibly another side effect of one of the medications. Possibly meclobemide. After that was sertraline, I think, then venelafaxine (Effexor, do not use!), then mirtrazapine, then for anxiety buspirone, and now imipramine. Practically debilitating in year thirteen. Buspirone was bad generally, and just made me somewhat anxious all the time. Begining of this year saw the switch to imipramine, which I would consider a god send. Less specifically suicidal, likely the result of moving away from my family. Possibly imipramine played a role. Now I just fail badly at understanding emotions, emotional expression, and expressing my own emotions. And recognising that I am even experiencing an emotion. >.> Shedding tears is my catch-all emotional expression. Confused, happy, sad. I don't do it for annoyed, though. And that about covers the range of emotions I can sometimes recognise in myself and others.
So now I'm doing stuff I promised I'd never do. I am enjoying it, too. And I don't know if it will be worth it in the end, but it's worth it now. To me, that counts as reason enough, even though reason has nothing to do with it. Reason, and I'd probably be in a different place. Reason, and I'd have said something different to what I said before. Reason and I wouldn't have the conversations I'm having with someone else. Sure, there was reason, it's just different reason to what I've ever used before. "I feel like it." And not just conversations. Just the way of being. And it's excellent, at least for now.
"Beauty always comes with dark thoughts.
I wish I had an angel
For one moment of love
I wish I had your angel
Your Virgin Mary undone
I'm in love with my lust
Burning angel wings to dust
I wish I had your angel tonight"
I am so, so confused as to how I ended up where I am. Breaking so many of my own rules. I made them for my benefit! I think I'm more confused that I'm sure happier this way.
no subject
What are sleeping corsets for? I don't think I have heard of them.
no subject